


F is for Falling

by goodmorningvietnam666



Series: IronHawk Alphabet [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Gen, Grieving, Introversion, Shared Sympathy, This isn't so much sad as it is beautifully and tragically written, missing people, that's concieted...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2017785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorningvietnam666/pseuds/goodmorningvietnam666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When their leader falls, they fall too</p>
            </blockquote>





	F is for Falling

**Author's Note:**

> I am really proud with the way I wrote this: the words just seemed to flow beautifully and while I haven't corrected it, I'm confident that it is of a substantial quality.  
> Reviews always welcome!
> 
> Happy Reading!

He thinks it feels a little like falling.

Suspended in a loud silence, a loud sort of nothing filling his ears with its empty yet full sound, it felt like wind rushing past him and his limbs felt like lead; the world had lost its colour in a dulled out way like a picture that was growing in age. Vaguely, he registered Stark screaming, a loud broken sound that cracked like a whip through his haze of _nothing_. The genius had fallen to his knees in a hopeless breakdown of his already weak resolve, crushing that final illusion of strength with one shout. The lump in his throat was insistence, and the feeling of heaviness that had overtaken him strengthened as he took one glance at the still form of Captain America. 

His chest tightened, heart hammering in his chest, and the grief crushed against the shock in a cocktail of sorrow mixed with rage. 

Without a word – he didn’t trust himself to speak – he moved over to Stark and gently, slowly, reached a hand out to rest on the older man’s shoulder heavily. His tongue felt as though it was made of steel, he couldn’t move it, the lump in his throat was crushing and his chest felt caved in. Never, in all of his life, had he felt what he was feeling right now. 

He was sure that wiser people had called it grief. 

Everything seemed to feel just a little off kilter after that, hollow, like a large cave where the sound bounced off and echoed into vast nothingness that drained his heart of the humour and vigour he had shown during missions was gone, emptied out and brutally cut by the harshness of the loss of his leader. Stark was very much the same, and he clung to his armoured suit, hiding behind its emotionless walls; never had he seen the genius so aloof and yet so emotional at the same time.

No one took over, no one spoke, and the communication that had brought the team together was being torn apart by their individual grief. Not Clint, however, he still tried to stick to the team members, to try and hold them together until someone did something. 

Eventually, Stark did, he took over and everything settled in in a sort of mismatched pattern, like several pieces from different puzzles. 

Eventually, he and Stark clung to one another, bound by the loss of their hero, the loss of the man who was slowly teaching them to be better, to improve and care about the people they worked with. Essentially they were following Steve’s teachings, finding and drawing comfort from one another as they held one another close on the bad nights and stayed nearby on the good. 

Yes, they were grieving, and yes, they were falling… 

But they were falling together.


End file.
